The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West

By Gustave Aimard

"The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West" by Gustave Aimard (translated by Sir Lascelles Wraxall). Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Good Press
• Release date: Dec 6, 2019
• ISBN: 4064066235604

Gustave Aimard

Gustave Aimard (13 September 1818[1] – 20 June 1883) was the author of numerous books about Latin America. Aimard was born Olivier Aimard in Paris. As he once said, he was the son of two people who were married, "but not to each other". His father, François Sébastiani de la Porta (1775–1851) was a general in Napoleon’s army and one of the ambassadors of the Louis Philippe government. Sébastini was married to the Duchess de Coigny. In 1806 the couple produced a daughter: Alatrice-Rosalba Fanny. Shortly after her birth the mother died. Fanny was raised by her grandmother, the Duchess de Coigny. According to the New York Times of July 9, 1883, Aimard’s mother was Mme. de Faudoas, married to Anne Jean Marie René de Savary, Duke de Rovigo (1774–1833). (Wikipedia)

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Gustave Aimard

The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West

Published by Good Press, 2022

[e-mail]

EAN 4064066235604

Table of Contents

THE VIRGIN FOREST.

THE CONTEST.

DON MIGUEL ZARATE.

THE PECCARIES.

THE WOUND.

THE SQUATTER'S SHANTY.

THE RANGERS.

THE VALLEY OF THE BUFFALO.

THE ASSASSINATION.

THE SACHEM OF THE CORAS.

CONVERSATION.

EL MESON.

RED CEDAR.

THE TWO HUNTERS.

FRAY AMBROSIO.

TWO VARIETIES OF VILLAINS.

EL CAÑON DEL BUITRE.

FATHER SERAPHIN.

UNICORN.

THE HUNT OF WILD HORSES.

THE SURPRISE.

THE MEETING.

THE ABDUCTION.

THE REVOLT.

PART II.—EL PRESIDIO DE SANTA FE.

EL RANCHO DEL COYOTE.

THE CUCHILLADA.

THE HUNTERS.

SUNBEAM.

THE ADOPTION.

THE MISSIONARY.

THE INTERVIEW.

THE PRISON.

THE EMBASSY.

THE PRESENTATION.

PSYCHOLOGICAL.

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.

A STORMY DISCUSSION.

THE MYSTERY.

THE AMBUSCADE.

A FRIENDLY DISCUSSION.

NATHAN.

THE WOUNDED MAN.

INDIAN DIPLOMACY.

THE STRANGER.

GENERAL VENTURA.

THE COMANCHES.

NEGOTIATIONS.

FREE.

THE MEETING.

DOÑA CLARA.

EL VADO DEL TORO.

PREFACE.

The present volume of Aimard's Indian Tales is devoted to the earlier adventures of those hunters, whose acquaintance the reader has formed, I trust with pleasure, in the preceding series. It does not become me to say anything further in its favour, than that the sustained interest of the narrative, which has been regarded as the charm of stories referring to life in the desert and prairie, has not been departed from in this instance. The stories themselves supply an innate proof of the writer's correctness to Nature, and, in truth, many of the scenes are so startling that they must be the result of personal observation.

In conclusion, I may be permitted to thank the Press generally for the kindly aid they have afforded me in making the English translation of Aimard's volumes known to the British reading public, and the hearty way in which they have recognized the merits of the previous series. It would be an easy task to collect paragraphs, expressing a belief that Aimard is second to none of the writers who have hitherto described Indian life and scenery; but I prefer to rest my hopes of success on the inherent qualities of his stories.

LASCELLES WRAXALL.

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CHAPTER I.

THE VIRGIN FOREST.

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In Mexico the population is only divided into two classes, the upper and the lower. There is no intermediate rank to connect the two extremes, and this is the cause of the two hundred and thirty-nine revolutions which have overthrown this country since the declaration of its independence. Why this is so is simple enough. The intellectual power is in the hands of a small number, and all the revolutions are effected by this turbulent and ambitious minority; whence it results that the country is governed by the most complete military despotism, instead of being a free republic.

Still the inhabitants of the States of Sonora, Chihuahua, and Texas have retained, even to the present day, that stern, savage, and energetic physiognomy which may be sought in vain among the other States of the Confederation.

Beneath a sky colder than that of Mexico, the winter, which frequently covers the rivers of the region with a thick layer of ice, hardens the muscles of the inhabitants, cleanses their blood, purifies their hearts, and renders them picked men, who are distinguished for their courage, their intelligence, and their profound love of liberty.

The Apaches, who originally inhabited the greater portion of New Mexico, have gradually fallen back before the axe of the pioneers; and after retiring into the immense deserts that cover the triangle formed by the Rio Gila, the Del Norte, and the Colorado, they ravage almost with impunity the Mexican frontiers, plundering, firing, and devastating all they meet with on their passage.

The inhabitants of the countries we alluded to above, held in respect by these ever-shifting savages, are in a state of continual warfare with them, always ready to fight, fortifying their haciendas, and only travelling with weapons in their hands.

El Paso del Norte may be regarded as the outpost of the civilised portion of Mexico. Beyond that, to the north and north-west, extend the vast unfilled plains of Chihuahua, the bolsón of Mapimi, and the arid deserts of the Rio Gila. These immense deserts, known by the name of Apacheria, are still as little investigated as they were at the close of the eighteenth century. El Paso del Norte owes its name to its situation near a ford of the Rio Del Norte. It is the oldest of all the New Mexican settlements, and its establishment dates back to the close of the sixteenth century. The present settlement is scattered for a distance of about ten miles along the banks of the Del Norte, and contains four thousand inhabitants at the most. The plaza, or village of the Paso, is situated at the head of the valley: at the other extremity is the Presidio of San Elezario. All the interval is occupied by a continuous line of white, flat-roofed houses, buried in gardens, and surrounded by vineyards. About a mile above the ford the stream is dammed up, and led by a canal into the valley, which it waters. Apacheria begins only a few miles from this settlement.

It is easily seen that the foot of civilised man has only trodden timidly and at rare intervals this thoroughly primitive country, in which nature, free to develop herself under the omnipotent eye of the creator, assumes an aspect of incredible beauty and fancifulness.

On a lovely morning in the month of May, which the Indians call the moon of the flowers, a man of high stature, with harsh and marked features, mounted on a tall, half-tamed steed, started at a canter from the plaza, and after a few minutes of hesitation, employed in realising his position, resolutely buried his spurs in the horse's flanks, crossed the ford, and after leaving behind him the numerous cottonwood trees which at this spot cover the river banks, proceeded toward the dense forest that flashed on the horizon.

This horseman was dressed in the costume generally adopted on the frontiers, and which was so picturesque that we will give a short description of it. The stranger wore a pelisse of green cloth, embroidered with silver, allowing a glimpse of an elegantly-worked shirt, the collar of which was fastened by a loosely-knotted black silk handkerchief, the ends passed through a diamond ring. He wore green cloth breeches, trimmed with silver, and two rows of buttons of the same metal, and fastened round the hips by a red silken scarf with gold fringe. The breeches, open on the side half way up the thigh, displayed his fine linen drawers beneath: his legs were defended by a strip of brown embossed and stamped leather, called botas vaqueras, attached below the knee by a silver garter. On his heels enormous spurs clanked. A manga, glistening with gold, and drawn up on the shoulder, protected the upper part of his body, while his head was sheltered from the burning sunbeams by a broad-leafed hat of brown stamped felt, the crown of which was contracted by a large silver toquilla passed twice or thrice round it.

His steed was caparisoned with graceful luxuriousness, which heightened all its beautiful points: a rich saddle of embossed leather, adorned with massive silver, on the back of which the zarapé was fastened; wide Moorish silver stirrups, and handsome water bottles at the saddle-bow; while an elegant anquera, made of openwork leather, and decorated with small steel chains, entirely covered the horse's croup, and sparkled with its slightest movement.

The stranger appeared, judging from the luxury he displayed, to belong to the high class of society. A machete hung down his right side, two pistols were passed through his girdle, the handle of a long knife protruded from his right boot, and he held a superbly damascened rifle across the saddle in front of him.

Bending over the neck of his galloping steed, he advanced rapidly without looking round him, although the landscape that lay extended before him was one of the most attractive and majestic in those regions.

The river formed the most capricious windings in the centre of a terrain diversified in a thousand strange ways. Here and there on the sandy banks enormous trees might be seen lying, which, dried up by the sun, evidenced, in their washed-out appearance, that they had been dead for centuries. Near the shallow and marshy spots, caymans and alligators wandered about awkwardly. At other places, where the river ran almost straight, its banks were uniform, and covered with tall trees, round which creepers had twined, and then struck root in the ground again, thus forming the most inextricable confusion. Here and there small clearings or marshy spots might be detected in the midst of the dense wood, often piled up with trees that had died of old age. Further on, other trees, which seemed still young, judging from their colour and the solidity of their bark, fell into dust with the slightest breath of wind.

At times, the earth, entirely undermined beneath, drawn down by its own weight, dragged with it the wood which it bore, and produced a crashing, confused sound, which was returned on all sides by the echo, and possessed a certain degree of grandeur in this desert, whose depths no man has ever yet ventured to scrutinise.

Still the stranger galloped on, with his eye ardently fixed before him, and not appearing to see anything. Several hours passed thus: the horseman buried himself deeper in the forest. He had left the banks of the river, and only progressed with extreme difficulty, through the entanglement of branches, grass, and shrubs, which at every step arrested his movements, and forced him to make innumerable turnings. He merely reined in his horse now and then, took a glance at the sky, and then started again, muttering to himself but one word:

"Adelante! (Forward!)"

At length he stopped in a vast clearing, took a suspicious glance around him, and probably reassured by the leaden silence which weighed on the desert, he dismounted, hobbled his horse, and took off its bridle that it might browse on the young tree shoots. This duty accomplished, he carelessly lay down on the ground, rolled a maize cigarette in his fingers, produced a gold mechero from his waist belt, and struck a light.

The clearing was of considerable extent. On one side the eye could survey with ease, through the trees, the widely extending prairie, on which deer were browsing with security. On the other side, the forest, wilder than ever, seemed, on the contrary, an impassable wall of verdure. All was abrupt and primitive at this spot, which the foot of man had so rarely trodden. Certain trees, either entirely or partially dried up, offered the vigorous remains of a rich and fertile soil; others, equally ancient, were sustained by the twisted creepers, which in the course of time almost equalled their original support in size: the diversity of the leaves produced the strangest possible mixture. Others, containing in their hollow trunk a manure which, formed of the remains of their leaves and half-dead branches, had warmed the seeds they had let fall, and offered, in the young shoots they contained, some compensation for the loss of their father tree.

In the prairies, nature, ever provident, seems to have been desirous to shelter from the insults of time certain old trees, patriarchs of the forest which are crushed beneath the weight of ages, by forming them a cloak of greyish moss, which hangs in festoons from the highest branches to the ground, assuming the wildest and most fantastic shapes.

The stranger, lying on his back, with his head resting on his two crossed hands, was smoking with that beatitude, full of ease and sloth, which is peculiar to the Hispano-Americans. He only interrupted this gentle occupation to roll a fresh cigarette and cast a glance around, while muttering:

Hum! He keeps me waiting a long time.

He emitted a puff of bluish smoke, and resumed his first position. Several hours passed thus. Suddenly, a rather loud rustling was heard in the thicket, some distance behind the stranger.

Ah, ah! he said, I fancy my man is coming at last.

In the meanwhile, the sound became louder, and rapidly approached.

Come on, hang it! the horseman shouted, as he rose. By our Lady of Pilar! You have surely been keeping me waiting long enough.

Nothing appeared: the clearing was still deserted, although the sound had attained a certain degree of intensity. The stranger, surprised at the obstinate silence of the man he was addressing, and specially by his continuing not to show himself, at length rose to see for himself the reason. At this moment, his horse pricked up its ears, snorted violently, and made a sudden effort to free itself from the lasso that held it; but our new acquaintance rushed toward it and patted it. The horse trembled all over, and made prodigious bounds in order to escape. The stranger, more and more surprised, looked round for an explanation of these extraordinary movements, and was soon satisfied.

Scarce twenty yards from him a magnificent jaguar, with a splendidly-spotted hide, was crouched on the main branch of an enormous cypress, and fixed on him two ferocious eyes, as it passed its blood-red, rugged tongue over its lips with a feline pleasure.

Ah, ah! the stranger said to himself in a low voice, but displaying no further excitement, "I did not expect you; but no matter, you are welcome, comrade. Caray! We shall have a fight for it."

Without taking his eye off the jaguar, he convinced himself that his machete quitted its scabbard readily, picked up his rifle, and, after these precautions were taken, he advanced resolutely toward the ferocious brute, which saw him coming without changing its position. On arriving within ten yards of the jaguar, the stranger threw away the cigarette he had till now held between his lips, shouldered his rifle, and put his finger on the trigger. The jaguar drew itself together and prepared to leap forward. At the same moment a hoarse yell was heard from the opposite side of the clearing.

Wait a minute, the stranger said to himself with a smile; it seems there are two of them, and I fancied I had to do with a bachelor jaguar. This is beginning to grow interesting.

And he threw a glance on one side. He had not deceived himself: a second jaguar, rather larger than the first, had fixed its flashing eyes upon him.

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CHAPTER II.

THE CONTEST.

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The dwellers on the Mexican frontiers are accustomed to fight continually with wild animals, both men and brutes, that continually attack them. Hence the stranger was but slightly affected by the unexpected visit of the two jaguars. Although his position between his two ferocious enemies was somewhat precarious, and he did not at all conceal from himself the danger he ran alone against two, he did not the less resolve to confront them bravely. Not taking his eye off the jaguar he had first seen, he went back a few steps obliquely, so as to have his foes nearly opposite him, instead of standing between them. This manoeuvre, which demanded some little time, succeeded beyond his hopes. The jaguars watched him, licking their lips, and passing their paws behind their ears with those graceful movements peculiar to the feline race. The two wild beasts, certain of their prey, seemed to be playing with it and not over eager to pounce on it.

While keeping his eye on the watch, the Mexican did not yield to any treacherous feeling of security: he knew that the struggle he was about to undertake was a supreme one, and he took his precautions. Jaguars never attack a man unless forced by necessity; and the latter tried, before all, to seize the horse. The noble animal, securely fastened by its master, exhausted itself in efforts to break the bonds that held it, and escape. It trembled with terror on scenting its ferocious enemies.

The stranger, when his precautions were completely taken, shouldered his rifle for the second time. At this moment the jaguars raised their heads, while laying back their ears and snuffing anxiously. An almost imperceptible sound was audible in the bushes.

Who goes there? the Mexican asked in a loud voice.

A friend, Don Miguel Zarate, was the reply.

Ah! It is Don Valentine, the Mexican continued. You have arrived just in time to see some fine sport.

Ah, ah! the man who had already spoken went on. Can I help you?

It is useless; but make haste if you want to see.

The branches were sharply drawn aside, and two men appeared in the clearing. At the sight of the jaguars they stopped, not through alarm, for they quietly placed the butts of their rifles on the ground, but in order to give the hunter every facility to emerge victoriously from his rash combat.

The jaguars seemed to comprehend that the moment for action had arrived. As if by one accord, they drew themselves up and bounded on their enemy. The first, struck in its leap by a bullet which passed through its right eye, rolled on the ground, where it remained motionless. The second was received on the point of the hunter's machete, who after discharging his rifle, had fallen on his knee, with his left arm folded in his blanket in front, and the machete in the other hand. The man and the tiger writhed together in a deadly embrace, and after a few seconds only one of the adversaries rose: it was the man. The tiger was dead: the hunter's machete, guided by a firm hand, had passed right through its heart.

During this rapid fight the newcomers had not made a sign, but remained stoical spectators of all that was taking place. The Mexican rose, thrust his machete in the grass to clean the blade, and turning coldly to the strangers, said:

What do you say to that?

Splendidly played, the first answered; it is one of the best double strokes I ever saw in my life.

The two men threw their rifles on their shoulders, and walked up to the Mexican, who reloaded his piece with as much coolness and tranquillity as if he had not just escaped from a terrible danger by a miracle of skill.

The sun was sinking on the horizon, the shadow of the trees assumed a prodigious length, and the luminary appeared like a ball of fire amid the limpid azure of the heavens. The night would soon arrive, and the desert was awaking. On all sides could be heard, in the gloomy and mysterious depths of the virgin forest, the hoarse howling of the coyotes and the other wild beasts, mingled with the song of the birds perched on all the branches. The desert, silent and gloomy during the oppressive heat of the day, emerged from its unhealthy torpor on the approach of dark, and was preparing to resume its nocturnal sports.

The three men in the clearing collected dried branches, made a pile of them and set fire to it. They doubtlessly intended to camp for a portion of the night at this spot. So soon as the flames rose joyously, skyward in long spirals, the two strangers produced from their game bags maize tortillas, jerked meat, and a gourd of pulque. These various comestibles were complacently spread out on the grass, and the three men began a hunter's meal. When the gourd had gone the round several times, and the tortillas had disappeared, the newcomers lit their Indian pipes, and the Mexican rolled a papelito.

Although this meal had been short, it lasted, however, long enough for night to have completely set in ere it was ended. Perfect darkness brooded over the clearing, the ruddy reflections of the fire played on the energetic faces of the three men, and gave them a fantastic appearance.

And now, the Mexican said, after lighting his cigarette, I will, with your permission, explain to you why I was so anxious to see you.

One moment, one of the hunters answered. You know that in the deserts the leaves have often eyes, and the trees ears. If I am not mistaken in your hints, you invited us here that our interview might be secret.

In truth, I have the greatest interest in nothing of what is said here being overheard, or even suspected.

Very good. Curumilla, to work.

The second hunter rose, seized his rifle and disappeared noiselessly in the gloom. His absence was rather long; but as long as it lasted, the two men left at the fire did not exchange a syllable. In about half an hour the hunter returned, however, and seated himself by his comrades' side.

Well? the one who had sent him off asked him.

My brother can speak, he replied laconically; the desert is quiet.

On this assurance the three men banished all anxiety. Still prudence did not abandon them: they took up their pipes, and turned their backs to the fire, so that they might watch the neighbourhood while conversing.

We are ready to listen to you, the first hunter said.

Listen to me with the greatest attention, the Mexican began; what you are about to hear is of the utmost importance.

The two men bowed silently, and the Mexican prepared to speak again.

Before going further we must introduce to the reader the two men we have just brought on the stage, and go back a few paces in order to make it perfectly understood why Don Miguel Zarate, in lieu of receiving them at his own house, had given them the meeting in the heart of the virgin forest.

The two hunters seemed at the first glance to be Indians; but on examining them more attentively, you could recognise that one of them belonged to those white trappers whose boldness has become proverbial in Mexico. Their appearance and equipment offered a singular medley of savage and civilised life. Their hair was of a remarkable length; for in those countries, where a man is frequently only fought for the glory of lifting his scalp, it is considered the thing to wear it long and easy to seize.

The hunters had their hair neatly plaited, and intertwined with beaver skins and bright coloured ribbons. The rest of their garb harmonised with this specimen of their taste. A hunting shirt of bright red calico fell down to their knees; gaiters decorated with woolen ribbons and bells surrounded their legs; and their feet were shod with moccasins embroidered with beads which the squaws know so well how to make. A striped blanket, fastened round the hips by a belt of tanned deer hide, completed their clothing, but was not so closely drawn that at their every movement the butt of the pistols and the hilt of the machetes might be seen glistening. As for their rifles, useless at this moment, and carelessly thrown on the ground by their side, if they had been stripped of the plume-worked elk skin that covered them, it would have been possible to see, with what care their owners had decorated them with copper nails painted of various colours; for all about these two men bore the imprint of Indian habits.

The first of the two hunters was a man of thirty-eight at the most, tall and well-built; his muscular limbs denoted great bodily strength, allied to unequalled lightness. Although he affected all the manners of the redskins, it was an easy matter to perceive that he not only belonged to the unmixed white race, but also to the Norman or Gaulish type. He was fair; his large, blue and pensive eyes, adorned with long lashes, had an expression of undefinable sadness: his nose was slightly aquiline; his mouth large, and filled with teeth of dazzling whiteness; a thick chestnut beard covered the lower part of his face, which revealed gentleness, kindness, and courage without boasting, though the whole were combined with a will of iron.

His companion evidently belonged to the Indian race, all the characteristic signs of which he displayed; but, strange to say, he was not coppery like the American aborigines of Texas and North America; and his skin was brown and slightly of an olive hue. He had a lofty brow, a bent nose, small but piercing eyes, a large mouth and square chin; in short, he presented the complete type of the American race, which inhabits a limited territory in the South of Chili. This hunter had round his brow a purple-coloured fillet, in which was thrust over the right ear a plume of the Andes Eagle, a sign which serves to distinguish the chiefs of the Aucas.

These two men, whom the reader has doubtless already recognised, as they played an important part in our previously published works[1], were Valentine Guillois, an ex-noncommissioned officer in the Spahis, and Curumilla, his friend—Ulmen of the Great Hare tribe.

We will introduce a parenthesis to explain their present position, and which is indispensable for a right understanding of what follows. The moment is capitally selected, by the way, for opening this parenthesis; for the three hunters are gaily talking round their fire, the night is gloomy, the forest quiet, and it does not appear likely that anything will arise to disturb them.

[1] The Chief of the Aucas, The Tiger Slayer, The Gold Finders, The Indian Chief.

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CHAPTER III.

DON MIGUEL ZARATE.

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Were Mexico better governed, it would be, without contradiction, one of the richest countries on the face of the globe. Indeed the largest private fortunes must still be sought in that country. Since the United States Americans have revealed to the world, by seizing one-half of Mexico, whither their ambition tends, the inhabitants of that fine country have slightly emerged from the torpor they enjoyed, and have made great efforts to colonise their provinces, and summon to their soil, which is so rich and fertile, intelligent and industrious labourers, who might change the face of affairs, and cause abundance and wealth to abound at spots, where, prior to their arrival, there was naught save ruin, desolation, carelessness, and misery.

Unfortunately, the noble efforts made up to the present day have, through an inexplicable fatality, remained without result, either owing to the natural apathy of the inhabitants, or the fault of the Mexican Government itself. Still the large landowners, comprehending all the advantages of the proposed measure, and how much it is to their interest to combat the deadly influence of the American invasions, have generously devoted themselves to the realization of this great question of social economy, which, unluckily is growing more and more unrealisable.

In fact, in Northern America two hostile races—the Anglo-Saxon and the Spanish—stand face to face. The Anglo-Saxons are devoured by an ardour for conquest, and a rage for invasion, which nothing can arrest, or even retard. It is impossible to see without amazement the expansive tendencies of this active and singular people, a heterogeneous composite of all the races which misery or evil instincts expelled from Europe originally, and which feels restricted in the immense territory which its numerical weakness yet prevents it entirely occupying.

Imprisoned within its vast frontiers, making a right of strength, it is continually displacing its neighbours' landmarks, and encroaching on territory of which it can make no use. Daily, bands of emigrants abandon their dwellings, and with their rifles on their shoulders, their axes in their hand, they proceed south, as if impelled by a will stronger than themselves; and neither mountains, deserts, nor virgin forests are sufficient obstacles to make them halt even for an instant. The Yankees imagine themselves generally the instruments of Providence, and appointed by the decrees of the Omnipotent to people and civilise the New World. They count with feverish impatience the hours which must elapse ere the day (close at hand in their ideas) arrive in which their race and government system will occupy the entire space contained between Cape North and the Isthmus of Panama, to the exclusion of the Spanish republics on one side, and the English colonies on the other.

These projects, of which the Americans make no mystery, but, on the contrary, openly boast, are perfectly well known to the Mexicans, who cordially detest their neighbours, and employ all the means in their power to create difficulties for them, and impede their successive encroachments.

Among the New Mexican landowners who resolved to make sacrifices in order to stop, or at least check, the imminent invasion from North America, the richest, and possibly, first of all, through his intelligence and the influence he justly enjoyed in the country, was Don Miguel Acamarichtzin Zarate.

Whatever may be asserted, the Indian population of Mexico is nearly double in number to the white men, and possesses an enormous influence. Don Miguel descended in a straight line from Acamarichtzin, first king of Mexico, whose name had been preserved in the family as a precious relic. Possessed of an incalculable fortune, Don Miguel lived on his enormous estates like a king in his empire, beloved and respected by the Indians, whom he effectively protected whenever the occasion presented itself, and who felt for him a veneration carried almost to idolatry; for they saw in him the descendant from one of their most celebrated kings, and the born defender of their race.

In New Mexico the Indian population has very largely increased during the past fifty years. Some authors, indeed, assert that it is now more numerous than prior to the conquest, which is very probable, through the apathy of the Spaniards, and the carelessness they have ever displayed in their struggles against it. But the Indians have remained stationary amid the incessant progress of civilization, and still retain intact the principal traits of their old manners. Scattered here and there in miserable ranchos or villages, they live in separate tribes, governed by their caciques, and they have mingled but very few Spanish words with their idioms, which they speak as in the time of the Aztecs. The sole apparent change in them is their conversion to Catholicism—a conversion more than problematical, as they preserve with the utmost care all the recollections of their ancient religion, follow its rites in secret, and keep up all its superstitious practices.

The Indians—above all, in New Mexico—although called Indios fideles, are always ready on the first opportunity to ally themselves with their desert congeners; and in the incursions of the Apaches and Comanches it is rare for the faithful Indians not to serve them